Undo Me
by BWjournal
Summary: They've trusted each other with their hearts, but there are things that are still left to be discovered, drawn out to light.


"You must stay still," he'd said; while he undressed her, slow, in no rush, reverently. His voice was low and enveloping. "You may moan all you want, I may even let you briefly touch me, and perhaps even yourself, but you must let me…" He paused, his breath hitching slightly while he pulled her lace bikini down her legs. "You must let me memorize every corner, let me learn how every inch feels."

He wrapped her ankle with his fingers and helped her foot out of her underwear without breaking eye contact. "Will you let me, Kate?"

She stared down at him, mesmerized at the methodical tone of his voice, in control, promising her some new experience from his arsenal of adoration.

"I didn't know you still needed permission."

He didn't have a witty comeback for that, but he brought the purple lace of her panties to his nose and inhaled, a gleam of wickedness and desire behind his darkened eyes. He could as well not utter another word; letting him loose in his actions alone would drive her mad.

She knew the power of his words; those that flowed warmly and effortless like the heat that she could feel already radiating from her core. She had taken pleasure in hearing them in her head as she read his novels for years, but it was so different to see those actions bestowed upon her and not in some other imaginary heroin. This wasn't Derrick Storm or Jameson Rook; it was the mastermind of those landscapes playing at the very strings of her, making her weak. Richard Castle was a man drunk on Kate Beckett, and he had no intention of sobering up.

So this is how she found herself in this situation. His fingertips are soft; she always knew they were, but it's different this way, as she's forced to pay attention by her agreement to let him explore; they feel like luxurious velvet, caressing and tracing lazy circles on her skin.

She lays on her back while he relishes in his careful study.

He begins his exploration just by looking at her, and she imagines what he must be thinking; what his always-overactive mind might be storing away for later use in one of his fantasies.

He sheds his own clothing and she shivers in anticipation; his body is robust, he's found his groove again, leaner than some months ago, but more muscular. She has slept with those arms wrapped around her, feeling secure and protected, the weight of his body grounding her.

Her breath quickens as he comes closer to the foot of the bed. He's smiling, serene, and she wonders how she's going to withstand this. She knows that if it's up to him this will be a sweet torture that will last hours, much to her chagrin and delight.

"You have cute toes," He says, as he lets the back of his fingers graze the arch of her foot. "Hot pink toes." Its almost sweet how he gingerly taps on her polished toe nails. A little dose of the playful kid she knows he lets himself be. But his intentions are far from immature when every pore of him is exuding raw manliness. She can't complain when all that Richard Castle wants to do is explore every inch of her body. His touch is so soft that it could rival the whisper of butterfly wings, and it takes all of her resolve to play this game as it should be played. This is going to be hard. He's only just begun and already she is trembling with desire.

"I thought you'd appreciate it, but is not 'Hot Pink', its called 'Seductive blush'"

"Ah… 'Seductive Blush'" He smiles at her. "I believe you're wearing that shade on your face as well."

She smiles too and takes a deep breath.

"I believe you're the one doing the seduction here, Castle."

"You're mistaken, Ms. Beckett." He says while tracing the delicate veins on the top of her foot. "Right now, every piece of you is calling to me… in whispers, very warm whispers." He kisses her ankle, softly, carefully and nuzzles his way up her calf.

A part of her is telling her, "let him play", the other wants him to stop this nonsense and take her; faster, rougher, powerfully, to overwhelm her with his desire. She knows he can feel her restlessness; she's having a hard time trying not to writhe under his touch, as he takes his time licking and nipping at the underside of her right calf.

And he's so into this. His lips grazing the soft skin, breathing the smell of her, on that spot inside her knee that he's about to discover makes her very weak. A moan escapes her lips before she can even control it. It reverberated in her chest, deep, a vibration that mimics her heartbeat. Goose bumps start to arise as he blows his way behind her thigh, caressing, kissing. He's turning her into mush, separating her legs to have better access.

The images of previous encounters and what he can do to her flood her mind; weeks of recent encounters in her bed, in his bed, on his couch or hers, on his terrace while the sun settled behind the New York skyline; desperate sometimes, heartbreaking at others, full of need always.

"You're allowed to breathe, Kate." She didn't know she had been holding onto it until she felt his hand over her heart, his eyes full of emotion drawing her back to the present. She takes a moment and rises on her elbows to look at him, nestled between her thighs, ghosting his fingers up and down the sides of them, making her shiver.

"Where did you go?" There's a slight concern in his eyes.

"Nowhere... everywhere."

"Are you having fantasies during my fantasy?" He says with a wink. Bless him for not worrying that her attention drifts, even when she's only perusing through images of them that are now a part of her own erotic private collection.

"I am, but only of you."

"And the writer becomes the muse…" She lets a breathy laugh break the pause in his ministrations.

"You're awe worthy, Castle."

His face turns into a mix of adoration and shyness. She knows that he's often showered with compliments, sometimes shallow and lots of times with an ulterior motive. He's the cash cow to many; he sometimes even gloats about it himself. But when it comes to hearing her voice her feelings for him, in plain words, it stills his heart. When her words mean more to him than a thin conversation about his talents, when they call to those feelings that he has shielded so fiercely, to share only with her. He's naked, unguarded, all of him out on display.

If she's needed him all of this time, he's been equally starved of true love. The one that goes beyond anything that he's ever had. It might sound sappy in her head, but this is the way she thought she should feel when she found the pieces missing from her life.

He must see the need in her eyes. She needs more connection; she needs to let some of this emotion loose before it drowns her.

"Tell me how this makes you feel." He says, his eyes digging deep in to hers. She bites her lip as he softly grazes the tender skin of her lower abdomen, over the jut of her hipbone. The touch fills her with fiery sensations, making her pulse quick and savage. And she wants to find her own words; she wishes she had such array of vocabulary to describe the overwhelming rush that curses through her veins, but her mind draws a blank. Too overloaded, surprisingly insecure to voice what her heart pounds wildly and freely. This should be easier, she thinks.

"You don't have to make a speech out of it," He coaxes her. His eyes hooded, transmitting more meaning than the words, showering her with warmth, letting her know its alright to bare herself. "Try one word and I'll let you tell the rest of the story with your touch."

She lets out a shaky breath and sustains his stare.

"How do I make you feel?" He asks, inching his fingertips to the peaks of her breasts. And there it is; she doesn't know where it comes from and why it matches the sting of tears in her eyes, but that's the only word she can think of.

"Beloved." And she comes to him to caress his face, the slight stubble a contrast to the rest of the softness of his skin; his eyes full of wonder and mirth. His lips part with a smile when hers start to taste at will, a hand roams her back and the other cradles her head. The kiss deepens, slow, long, enjoyable, making her feel dizzy as his hands shift and turn to her sides, brushing soft caresses as they reach the sensitive underside of her breasts.

She grows breathless and so does him, and they only separate the few inches that let them regain some control, noses touching, lips grazing. He lets her settle in the moment; slowly placing wet kisses along her jaw. "Lay back down," he smiles against her neck. "I'm not done exploring."

She chuckles and lets out a fake frustrated huff.

"Relax, Beckett." A sly smile on his lips; he means business when he calls her by her last name these days, and he knows when to use it very well. "Kate" is reserved for those moments when there's more vulnerability between them, when he wants to let their emotions loose, and there's so much of that now. No more walls, no more barriers.

And how could there be any when he kisses his way from her navel to her scar, nuzzling, breathing, memorizing; tracing a road to her heart that beats without little control in this moment. He will call her "Beckett" to draw onto her dominant side, almost a dare to balance out his own impulses. Right now, everything in her is skating in thin ice, especially when every part of her screams for more.

"It's hard to relax when you're driving me crazy."

"Is not easy for me either, but think of this as an exercise in self-control." And she has to commend him on that, because Richard Castle is not known for restraint when it comes to something he wants. He wants to savor. She will give him that.

He hovers over her, his cheek on her ribcage, glancing through the valley of her breasts. "I could let you join in my exploration if that would make it less… torturous… for you."

She thinks about it while his hands find their way down the inside of her arms, almost a tickle but too subtle to register any humor. She could take over, she could participate in this game in a more active manner, but that's what she always does. As much as he comes and conquers, she does have her ways to overpower him; always entering rooms before him, authority and dominance; a usual way to live her life, trumping over anyone that may want to delay her wishes. But then it dawns on her. As much as she likes being in charge, this is what she just admitted to herself: it's the time to delight in being cherished. Become the true object of his admiration and devotion.

"You're doing much too good of a job for me to take the spotlight away from you," she concedes.

"Thanks," he chuckles against her breast. "I aim to please."

"Plus, we have all the time in the world for me to explore your rugged self." She's not surprised at herself for this admittance of a future between them, but it does catch her off guard when she realizes that those plans are not the only things in her mind for their future.

He turns her over on her stomach and a giggle erupts from her as he quickens the pace of his tasks. He lifts her hips and she feels exposed to him; his hands kneading her cheeks firmly.

"You know, the view from this spot its pretty fantastic." His voice is deep and she peeks over her shoulders at him. His right hand grabs on to her hip for leverage as he looms over her reaching her lips, the kiss a little rougher, less controlled now. She can feel his need on his ragged breath and his hardness nestled between her thighs. God, he needs to speed this up. Heat flares on her skin and the blood pulses through her, travelling fast to every sensitive part of her, pooling between her legs, making her sex feel impossibly aware of the stimulation she's been subjected to. A delicious pressure that makes every crevice, every fold feel like it's filled with energy that could burst upon the slightest touch.

He's done this to her. She can feel the moisture seeping from her, and then he's there; his breath softly brushing her entrance, teasing, and she wishes he would taste her and alleviate the need. But he delays it, avoiding the delicate skin to kiss his way to the softness of the back of her legs. She hears him moan and his lips vibrate against her, too much sensation accumulated and she can't help but fist her hands on the sheets that now are slightly damp and almost too warm. Everything is making her too aware of her arousal.

"You feel like something I could never find the words for…" he whispers against her skin. "You smell like nothing I could ever describe," he mouths as he licks upwards slowly, carefully, to her center. And then he laps her and a yelp exits her throat, leaving her raw and on edge. "And your taste is a flavor so exquisite," he says between nips and licks, parting her folds with his digits, "that I could never even dream of sharing its flavor, because I want it only for me."

The words resonate in her head as he devours her center, she can feel the quiver inside her, exploding against his lips and around his fingers as he brings her to an orgasm that renders her powerless. And then, as she struggles to claw her way back to reality, she feels him fill her completely; it's almost unexpected but so intensely needed. His strokes are measured and powerful, reaching the last places of her that haven't been over stimulated, his hand reaches her bundle of nerves, and she knows it's too much, it's almost painful, but she can't stop.

She grinds against him over and over again, meeting his thrusts, as he sits back bringing her with him, restoring some power back to her, letting her join his rhythm.

His lips find her neck and he sucks on her sweat-covered skin, his hands finding patches that crave more friction, more of him. She rides him with abandon, searching for that plateau again. She lets her head fall back, her body thrumming with electricity as she hears his moans grow more guttural and desperate.

"Castle…" She hears his name manage the way out of her lips and then it comes; his hand over her breast pinches the puckered nipple, hard, almost painful, throwing her over the edge. He takes her with him, with the strangled groan that vibrates powerfully through him, in a hug that makes her feel whole and transformed.

* * *

"You would have made a great adventurer." She says against his chest.

"How so?"

"Well, you are very diligent when it comes to following clues, letting the road lead you to the treasure on the map."

He strokes her back, slowly, letting their sated bodies enjoy the aftermath. "You're the only map I ever want to explore. And there's many more of your roads that I'm craving to roam."

She smiles. There's so much of them both still a mystery to be discovered. "Thank you," she says searching his eyes.

"What for?"

"For letting me be the one you want to discover." Her eyes are watery as he tucks a stray strand behind her ear.

"One does not pick a road, Kate. The road picks you." His words remind her of how their paths drove them to this moment and she ponders how it is that their life has become this different reality, always changing and never dull. She had always thought she was in control, fate and destiny be damned. Now, she's not so sure.

"But don't worry," he says as he pulls her on top of him. "Next time, I'll let you drive."

* * *

**Thanks to Ky for running a mini marathon of Always, ATS, Cloudy and Secret so that I would be inspired to write this.**

Hope you enjoy it, and please leave me reviews, I want to get better at this or know what I'm doing right, so I'd greatly appreciate your words.

**Also... Hamptoms TOMORROW!**


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